Michael McGuire The Night Is Awake
THE NIGHT IS AWAKE
© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.
The horseman rides thru the blackest of nights, darkness visible thru
the stars pointed lights, the hangman winces at the cock’s early crow,
the lonely drifter has no place left to go, the troubadour sings a
melody for us all, the soul searching saint has finally heard his call, use
this light as a beacon for your lover, use this illumination as your
nakedness or your cover.
In these fields there are ancient ways, against these heirlooms there are
endless days, the horseman rides on thru solitude, the lady is waiting
but not for Jude, her hands reaching out to caress this dirt, everything
is lost in what it’s worth, the doctor watches as she changes shape, she
says she can be cured with oil and tape.
The overture has left him thunderstruck, she has blessed your
determination and cursed your luck, it’s the season of the beggar's
moon, don’t stay away to long or leave to soon, the poet has
developed writers cramp, the armies have vacated their winters camp,
thru it all the horseman rides so bold, awakes the young reminds the
old.
Runs so silent thru the whispering wind, as if seeking a long lost
friend, slipping thru these black forests of rain, falling thru these
broken memories of pain, and up on this lonely tower, she lies awake
thru this forbidden hour, as a lonely ghost moans for relief, after
trading in his life for belief.
Judas slides by on ice, the hit man has lowered his price, the light
divides to see the shadow dance, the audience watches the mirror in a
trance, no time for love so motherless children hate, this new world
faith they call it fate, a blade cuts thru the tender skin, the time has
come now is when.
The princess cries tears of regret, she cant remember but she cant
forget, in creeps the servant of whispers voice, says you have a
decision but you have no choice, Diana un-robes to bath in the stream,
a vision of a seduction scheme, the perpetual motion in the void, mind
over matter we are toyed.
The raven slips by on silent wings, the nightingale plays heart and
softly sings, sleepwalkers caught solid in an act of perversion,
insomniacs sleep to this diversion, as the horseman stops to water his
horse, and to plot his new born corse, the streets are alive with her
grace, this is our fact her secret place.
The ceremony ends with the sacrificed saved, darkness visible as the
fires do fade, the seasons change around her shape, the winds rest
easy behind her cape, she is yours and yours but never mine, as she
draws the water from the wine, her prisoners obey her lovers moan,
from the womb of every seed she’s sown.
Captured by this forbidden fruit, your spirit flies and your step takes
root, your voice it stutters as your tongue does speak, your breath
perfume it’s your words that reek, there is another side she has not yet
shown, where the ones in debt receive the loan, a place where she
caresses even the ugliest sins, and turns her back on the ghost written
amen’.
Thru your eyes she has seen it all, braved the ascent and suffered the
fall, the horseman rides over her grave, her bones still rattle rant and
rave, from this veil of darkness she cast forth light, to the blind and
groping dreamer she fills his sight, yes the night is awake with a
million dreams, and the day is not really as it seems.
nov 85